


Some Cain and Abel Shit

by Shrinkadink



Category: The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Season 3 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shrinkadink/pseuds/Shrinkadink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It's funny, right up until the point that it isn't.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Following the events of episode 2 Season 3, Anders isn't recovering like everyone thought he would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Cain and Abel Shit

**Author's Note:**

> Excuse the medical inaccuracies on my part.
> 
> Also! Unrelated to this fic but I'm thinking a lot of people who come here also go to the kink meme and I just wanted to say that that prompt that I started to fill and then stopped hasn't been abandoned, I just started treating it more like a proper fic rather than just a fill and wanted to do some proper plotting and structure so it may take some time. Sorry! But it will be coming yo.

For about the first day it was funny.

How could it not be?

Anders was so stubborn he just wouldn’t stay down, and the rest of them were just so relieved that he wasn’t dead, they were giddy with it. Each time that he clambered to his feet slurring insults at them only to topple to the ground in a graceless heap was a confirmation that he was ok. Anders would live on to fight another day doing whatever the hell it was that Anders does best (usually fucking and fighting).

“He’s like a new-born pup,” Ty had commented as he and Olaf both dropped a comatose Anders in bed. He’d insisted that he could do it himself and they had left him to it until they’d heard a thud and a bang and they’d gone into the bathroom to find Anders draped against the shower, one arm inside his t-shirt with his toothbrush hanging limp and frothy in his mouth.

But then, it stops being so funny.

As days pass and he continues to stumble and collapse, they begin to think that maybe there’s more to it. Maybe it isn’t just blood loss and head rush.

The fainting fits are getting worse. Anders is falling harder, taking longer to recover and when he comes to he’s shaking and weak, his face pale and his skin clammy.

“I don’t get it,” Mike says after one of Anders’ episodes. They’re in the bar and Anders is propped against the wall, half draped over Ty who’s helping him drink a glass of sugary orange squash. Anders’ hands are shaking so bad that he can’t hold the glass on his own and he can’t seem to control his tongue enough to form words. “Axl didn’t have any side effects…” Mike looks at Ty. “You didn’t have any side effects and you actually died. I don’t get what’s wrong.”

Michele’s no help. When they ask her, she just shrugs and tells them that the stick does what the stick does. And when they insist that she has to know something, she glares at them and she asks if she looks like a fucking botanist to them.

“Anders, you need to go see a doctor,” Ty says, they all say it at one point or another. But Anders shakes his head and tells them that the only problem is he has a headache and it’s all because of three very annoying family members who won’t leave him alone. (Axl has said nothing; Axl still won’t talk to Anders. Axl won’t even look at Anders.)

Each time Anders waves them off Mike rolls his eyes and mutters about what a stupid fuck Anders is.

At least Anders has agreed not to drive. Even he can’t deny that that would be one hell of a stupid thing to do when he can’t guarantee he won’t faint and careen off the road.

He has Mike and Ty working as his own personal chauffeurs, much to their annoyance.

“You’re really pushing it,” Ty mutters when Anders calls him up at ten at night and demands Ty take him for smoothies. “We said in emergencies only.”

“This was an emergency,” Anders says as he sips his smoothie. Then he shouts and grips his head and screws his eyes shut and Ty almost drives off the road in fright.

“What is it?” Ty demands, frantic. “What’s wrong?”

“Brain freeze,” Anders says.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” says Ty.

And then one day, Anders has a seizure.

They’re not there when he has it. He’s at work and Mike, Olaf, and Axl are sitting outside Ty’s with Ingrid and Stacey, being indoctrinated into the ‘cupcake club’. Mike’s phone rings, it’s Dawn, she’s frantic and it takes her repeating herself twice before Mike understands what she’s telling him.

He’s shocked, but he’s not surprised. “For fuck’s sake,” he says as he hangs up and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What?” Ty’s already sitting forward like he already knows. The rest of them are looking at Mike and frowning. Axl is glaring out at the street, deliberately not looking at anyone.

“Hospital,” says Mike. “Now.”

* * *

 

They get to the hospital all piled up in Ty’s van. They filter out like a family of clowns spilling out of a punch buggy and they filter into the waiting room, all of them talking at once. When the staff nurse sees them, she sighs and thinks  _the Johnson family, not again._

“I’ll get Michele,” she says before Mike can say anything. It’s unofficially official that each time one of the Johnsons is in hospital (which happens a lot, accident prone family) it is Michele who is to deal with them. Michele is a dragon at work. Michele hates people and she hates the sick. But for some reason, she always comes when they tell her it’s one of the Johnsons. Always, without fail.

The staff nurse finds Michele in the break room. “The cavalry is here,” she tells her. Michele nods, sighs and stands up. Then she leaves to talk to that funny, dysfunctional family.

* * *

 

“Anders has epilepsy,” Michele tells them and then she waits for the inevitable eruption.

“Epilepsy?” Ty says.

“Fuck me,” says Olaf.

“ _How_?” says Mike.

Axl stays quiet, he’s sitting apart from them and he’s glaring at the chairs, glaring at the wall, glaring at anything but them.

“Everything until now has been small scale fits, today he had a seizure. Dawn described the symptoms, he’s had a scan. It’s definitely epilepsy.” Michele sighs and brushes her fringe back out of her eyes. She sounds frustrated and her eyes are regretful. “We took too long to bring him back. The lack of blood caused brain damage. I told you I could only heal the wound, I couldn’t help with that.”

“Fuck me,” Olaf says again and he sits down heavily next to Axl. “Epilepsy. Fuck.”

“It’s not my fault, Mike,” says Michele. “I did what I could.”

It’s still sinking in for Mike. Epilepsy is big, it’s permanent, it means medication and changing your lifestyle and he just  _knows_  how badly Anders is going to take this. It’s still sinking in but he pulls Michele into a hug and he kisses her and he looks at her with his most serious expression and tells her he knows. No one blames her.

Sitting in his chair, Axl coughs and leans forwards, resting his head in his hands. It’s the first sign of life from him since they came in.

Mike looks at him and he sighs. “When can we see him?”

* * *

 

Anders is already up and out of bed and looking for his clothes when they walk into the room.

“They took my clothes,” Anders tells them when he sees them. “That bitch nurse took my clothes so I couldn’t leave. Ugly cow.”

“He seems fine to me,” says Ty as he takes a seat by the window. Olaf stretches out on Anders bed, feet crossed at the ankles. Axl hovers by the door, he looks big and uncomfortable and like he wants to disappear.

“How are you, Anders?” Mike asks. Anders shoots him a dirty look.

“I pissed myself and my arse is hanging out of this gown, how the fuck do you think I am?” Then he sighs and closes his eyes and starts again. “I’m fine. Better. How’s Dawn?”

“She was pretty upset when she called me but she’s ok now.” Mike reassures him.

“I’ll check on her later,” volunteers Ty and Anders rolls his eyes.

“Of course you will.” He looks at Mike. “Make sure he doesn’t go near Dawn, she’s going to get a restraining order against him if he’s not careful.”

Ty squawks, Olaf guffaws and Mike tries not to smile. “Anders, can we talk about what happened?”

“Help me get my clothes back first,” Anders tells him. “I know she just wants to perve on me.”

* * *

 

It takes a lot of coercion, and a lot of promises that they’re not going to let him run off first chance he gets, but they get Anders’ clothes back. Once he is decent again, they’re ready to leave (after swearing an oath that someone stays with Anders for at least 24 hours and that they are to sit on him to keep him resting if need be). Even then, the hospital doesn’t let them leave until Anders talks to a specialist on what to expect. Anders nods and pretends to listen while not really listening until Mike nudges him and tells him they’re not going home until Anders can repeat word for word the name and dosage of every medication his has been prescribed.

Finally, they’re free to go. They drive back to Anders’ where Dawn is, unsurprisingly waiting for them. She’s spoken to Mike on the phone and she’s already drawn up a wall chart of who is to stay with Anders and when. Each of them is given a highlighter colour and Anders’ week looks like a neon rainbow. Mike is blue, Olaf is pink, Ty is green, and Axl is orange. No one has told Dawn about the Gaia thing. Everyone watches Axl with bated breath when he looks at his colour, but he says nothing. He just blinks and nods and steps away from the wall.

“So I’m Thursday?” he asks.

They let out a collective sigh of relief.

“I don’t need bloody babysitting,” Anders grouses.

“Do you want to go back to hospital?” asks Mike. “Because that’s your only other option.”

Anders glares at him and looks about two seconds away from pulling a tongue at him, but he doesn’t respond. “Right well Ty is tonight,” he says instead. “So the rest of you can piss off. Ty, we’re getting drunk.”

“No drinking,” Mike warns him. “Remember.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“You’re such a gracious bastard, aren’t you?”

Anders snaps his fingers and points to the door. “Thank you now go away.” He points to Ty who’s hovering near an uncomfortable looking Dawn. “You’re sleeping on the couch unless you insist on sharing the bed then you have to be little spoon, I am never little spoon.”

* * *

 

The week goes on and Anders seems determined to prove to everyone that he is fine, even when he is not.

Predictably, he is the worst patient. He won’t sit still, he’s always determined that he’s going out and whoever’s with him can like it or lump it. At some points on his shifts, Mike thinks that he will actually have to literally sit on Anders to get him to rest.

On Olaf’s shift, when Mike rings them, they’re out at a bar.

“Jesus, grandpa!” Mike scolds him, furious. “What part of ‘don’t let Anders drink’ did you not understand?”

“It’s fine,” Olaf slurs. “He’s not drinking.” Then there’s silence and Olaf adds a little sheepishly. “He’s had one. Maybe two drinks. That’s it, honest.”

Anders isn’t taking his health seriously and it’s damn near driving Mike insane. Doesn’t the fool realise he has a serious condition that needs careful monitoring?

And to top it off, Thursday is fast approaching and Mike is growing more and more worried about it. Axl and Anders have barely spoken since Gaia left. Mike  _really_ doesn’t think it’s a good idea leaving them alone in the same room together for so long.

He doesn’t think Axl will do anything, not now. But what if?

“I can do Thursday, really, I’m fine with it,” Mike tells Axl after a ‘casual’ visit. But Axl shakes his head grimly.

“I want to do it,” he says. Mike has to stop himself from asking why? Axl doesn’t want to kill Anders, he has to remind himself of this. He won’t kill Anders again. “I know you’re worried Mike but I think I need this. We need this.”

“I can come with you.”

“No.” Axl sounds firm; there are shades of Odin sneaking into his tone more and more these days. Mike is seeing less and less of his baby brother and more of the God, he doesn’t know whether to feel proud or alarmed by this.

“Just call me if anything goes wrong.” Mike knows when he’s beat.

* * *

 

Thursday rolls around and Mike is so anxious that Michele is close to kicking him out on the street just to get some peace.

“Oh for fuck sake if you’re so worried just go round there,” she all but begs him as he paces through their gutted apartment. They’re halfway through the refurbishments and everything is bare bones and ‘worse before it gets better’ and the mayhem of his surroundings is only adding to his anxiety.

“Axl told me he wanted to do it alone.”

“Axl’s an idiot who doesn’t know what he wants.”

“Harsh,” Mike tells her and Michele smiles sweetly. “I have to show I can trust him. Both of them.”

“Fucking Johnsons,” Michele grumbles, but she pulls him down onto the bed and kisses him. “If I can’t get you to go, then I guess I’ll have to try and distract you.” She kisses her way down his chest, undoing his shirt one button at a time and kissing every inch of chest that is revealed.

Mike’s phone rings, it’s Axl.

“What’s wrong?” Mike answers the phone while Michele sits back on her heels with a sigh. “Is he ok?”

“… not really, no.”

“What did you do?”

“Jesus, Mike!” Axl sounds offended. “I haven’t killed him, you can relax… he had another seizure.”

“Did you call for an ambulance?”

“I don’t need to, it was only a few seconds. He woke up after a couple minutes, I made sure he wasn’t choking and he didn’t hit his head, I listened to the doctor too, Mike, I’m not a total idiot.”

“No, you’re right. Sorry. Is he ok?”

“He’s sleeping,” Axl says. “But can you come down?”

Mike’s already on his feet and pulling on his shoes. He kisses Michele who mock glares and slaps his ass. “On my way.”

* * *

 

Axl lets him in and puts finger to his lips, signaling for Mike to be quiet.

“He’s in the bedroom,” Axl says.

Mike opens the bedroom door quietly and peeks in. Anders is a blanketed lump in the centre of the bed, curled on his side. The only part of him that Mike can see is a mess of blond hair peeking out from under the covers.

Satisfied, Mike closes the door softly and follows Axl through into Anders’ living area. Axl drops down onto the couch with a weary sigh and Mike gets two bottles of beer out of the fridge. He notices with some annoyance that the beer has gone down from the last time he was here. He hopes that was one of the others and not Anders, he’ll have to be having words with him when he wakes up.

“He’s ok,” Axl says again as Mike hands him a beer. “But fuck Mike, it was scary. He just kind of fell over and started jerking. I’ve never… I didn’t think it would be like that.”

“You did good,” Mike tells him. Axl doesn’t look convinced. He sips his beer and he stares down at the ground, frowning.

“How did being alone with him go?” Mike asks because he can’t hold off any longer, he has to know.

“Weird,” says Axl. “Not as bad as I was thinking it’d be but… he’s being so nice to me, Mike.”

“He would be,” Mike tells him and drinks his beer. “He really does feel bad about the Gaia thing.”

“Yeah but… I hurt him. All of this,” he gestures around the room, to Dawn’s rainbow chart and the boxes of Anders’ medication on the coffee table. “It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, Axl.” Mike says this firmly because he can’t afford to let any doubt through. Any doubt and Axl’s going to pick up on it, he’s going to use it to beat himself up and Mike knows that Axl doesn’t need any help on that front. “No one blames you.”

“I blame me.”

“Then you’re an idiot. Anders doesn’t blame you.”

“Anders feels guilty. He doesn’t blame me because he’s trying to be nice.” Axl scrubs a hand over his face and he sniffs. “I can’t get it out of my head, how he looked. When he came to he just looked so confused. He saw me and he was scared, Mike.”

“He was scared because he woke up and he was lying on the floor. Not because of you.”

But Axl shakes his head. “I don’t know, Mike…” he says. “I don’t know.”

Mike sighs. He drinks his beer and he looks at the wall he knows Anders is behind. The two brothers sit in silence, waiting for Anders to wake up.

* * *

 

Hours later, the bedroom door creaks open and Anders shuffles into the room looking bleary eyed and sleep rumpled. There’s a pillow imprint on his left cheek and the left side of his hair is standing up like he’s been dragged through a hedge in a tornado.

“Anders!” Mike exclaims as he jumps to his feet.

“Quiet voice,” Anders winces as he shuffles around the couch and drops into it with a groan. He closes his eyes. “I’m not having fun,” he announces. He cracks an eye open, glances at Axl. “Did I piss myself again?”

“No,” says Axl.

“Thank Christ.” Anders eyes slide shut again. “A beer would be perfect.”

“No beer,” says Mike. “Water or tea.”

“Oh great,” Anders says, opening his eyes to glare at him. “You’re here.” He turns to Axl. “Why is he here?”

“To make sure you’re ok, you asshole,” Mike answers for him. He starts preparing a mug of tea, herbal, he assumes it was left here by Dawn.

Once it’s ready, he sets it down on the coffee table in front of Anders and then he sits back down. Anders is draped on his side of the couch like a stringless puppet and Axl is sitting stiff as a board on his side, the two of them look every bit the odd couple. It would be amusing if it wasn’t so sad.

“Hey,” Anders nudges Axl’s shin with his bare toe. “You look like a puppy that just shat on my rug. Stop it.”

“Sorry,” Axl says.

“And stop apologising; I know you want to hit me.”

Axl looks shocked. “I don’t want to hit you!” he yelps.

“You do. Everyone wants to hit me, I mean you actually got to kill me so bonus points.”

Axl blanches and Mike groans in disbelief. “Jesus, Anders,” he snaps. “Was that necessary?”

Anders shrugs, looking between Mike and Axl. “I’m only saying it because I want us to move past this whole awkward bullshit already. The sooner we can joke about it the sooner we can forget about it.”

"I almost killed you."

"What's a bit of homicide between bros? Look at that Cain and Abel shit, they were all at it."

“You have epilepsy, Anders, and it’s my fault.”

“And I fucked your fiancé. We’re both jerks. Can we go back to being brothers now?” Anders nudges him again with his foot, then he jostles him in the arm. “Bro? Baby bro? Come on…”

“Fuck Anders.” Axl shifts away. “Yes, we’re brothers, you dick.”

Anders smiles and his eyes slide closed again. “That’s more like it, killer.”

“Too soon, Anders,” Mike winces. It doesn’t matter; Anders is already falling asleep again.

Mike stays long enough that he’s certain that everything will be alright.

“You’re sure you’re ok?” Mike asks as he shrugs on his jacket. Axl nods, he does actually look a little brighter. He’s not walking around like the weight of the world, both human and Godly, is on his shoulders.

“Yeah.”

“Just try not to beat yourself up, Axl.”

“Trying not to.” Axl glances over his shoulder at the couch. Anders is curled up on the cushions and they’ve draped a blanket over his shoulders and he’s snoring quietly. “We’ll be ok,” he says earnestly and Mike’s pretty certain that Axl doesn’t just mean for tonight. “Thanks Mike, you’re a good brother.”

“Hmm.” Mike’s not always sure he believes that, but it’s nice to hear. Besides, there’s been far too much of their manly angst of late to last him a lifetime. “Night baby bro,” he says softly.

Axl pulls him into a hug, thumping his back. “Night old man.”

“You little shit.”

Axl smiles and shrugs and closes the door. Mike stands there for a moment, watching and listening, then, slowly, he turns and starts making his way back home.

No matter what, he can’t shake the responsibility he feels for his brothers. He might not always like them, but he will always care.


End file.
